Myshawolf: peeks out Sorry about not having these up sooner. I was busy with getting ready to graduate from grad school. Anyways here is Chapter 7 and 8. I'm going to be begging for reveiws soon. I want to know what everyone thinks of the new ERika. I know she isnt' as nice as the old one but that's the point I guess. She is suppose to be evil (trying to make up for the fact that there is a lack of good villianesses in the world. ). Anyways I'll have a preseguel up that will detail the previous run ins Erika and Moriarty had with each other. Keep and eye out for it. It's gonna be title. 'Out Tonight.'. You'll see why when you read it. Well Enjoy and On with the show!
Stranger Than You Dreamt It
Chapter 7- The Theater of Shadows. plays creepy Phantom Music
The lobby was cast in silver moonlight. It reminded Lestrade of the old horror movie she had seen on the vid disks in her college years. As she looked around, she moved closer to Holmes. Somehow having him there was comforting to her. Lestrade inspected the glamorous lobby. To think that a little over ten years ago, this lobby was bustling with patrons. Now only shadows were left -- shadows that seemed to dance, to Lestrade's eyes. How did she let Holmes talk her into this?
Suddenly there was a noise. Lestrade jumped, drew her ioniser and took aim. Holmes jumped as well and flicked his lumie on. The beam fell across a staring Siamese cat. Its lilac tail flicked behind it as it gazed at the two intruders with soft light blue eyes. Lestrade relaxed slightly as Holmes chuckled. The cat got up and lazily trotted towards the stage area, forgetting about the two spies she'd encountered.
Lestrade felt the need to break the silence. "I got to cut back on the coffee."
Holmes chuckled. "It seems we are both jumpy. Deidre will be amused to know a Siamese scared us."
Lestrade put her gun away. "Must be a stray that is here trying to catch some mice."
"I don't think so, my dear Lestrade. If you noticed, most strays are very thin from inconsistent eating and very bad-tempered towards strangers. Yet this one was very healthy-looking; it probably has an owner that takes care of it. Also, it wasn't afraid of us."
"So it's used to human contact." Lestrade caught on. "So someone is living here."
"Possibly someone who knows what happened to Erika Noir," Holmes nodded. "We should follow it to its owner."
Lestrade nodded reluctantly. She wasn't looking forward to going deeper into the Opera House, but there were clues here. Lestrade followed Holmes very closely. Holmes noticed her tension and tried to distract her with stories of his old cases. Lestrade began to relax but still kept an eye open for anything.
Holmes smiled as Lestrade stayed close. He had a feeling the Count wouldn't try to soothe her fear and yet keep her focused on the task at hand. Holmes hid his smile as he spoke about how he'd followed the original affair of the Phantom of the Opera. Glancing at her, he could tell she was interested in it. Soon they reached the massive stage area.
Holmes looked around, inspecting what he could. It was too big for them to search together. They would have to split up. At least they could communicate with their wrist coms. Lestrade braced herself as if she could sense what was coming.
"It's too big," Lestrade whispered.
"Indeed it is," Holmes nodded. "We'll have to split up if we want to cover enough ground."
"But how will we keep in contact? I mean, we are in a madman's territory," Lestrade protested softly.
"We'll talk through the wrist coms. Lestrade, we are not in one of Deidre's horror movies. Please calm down," Holmes spoke comfortingly to her.
Lestrade nodded. She needed to think about the case. She wasn't unarmed. Her ioniser was by her side. Feeling more confident, Lestrade gave Holmes her usual cocky smile. Holmes returned it and the two went their separate ways through the Opera House.
---------------------------
Moriarty peeped out from the shadows as he watched the detectives walk around. Their light cut through the darkness that surrounded them. Moriarty was fine in the dark but he could tell that Lestrade was very ill at ease. A smirk crossed his lips. Of course the Inspector would be scared of the darkness in the abandoned theater.
Moriarty moved with them. Obviously, they were the reasons why Erika fled the club so quickly. There was something here that she wanted to protect. If he followed them they would lead him to her. Moriarty wanted to find her. She was such a temptation to him. Every time he saw her, she tested his control, whether she knew it or not.
Moriarty frowned as they split up. He stepped out onto the dark stage unsure who to follow. Right now, he wished he'd let Fenwick follow him. Now he had to choose the zealot or the meddler.
-------------------
Lestrade pulled her lumie as she looked among the boxes backstage. So far she'd only found an old prop table with a dusty sign that read 'Don't Touch', and several rats. Shuddering, she continued on.
Unbeknownst to Lestrade, her light footsteps tapped a section of the stage that was a trigger. As her violet eyes searched the shadows for monsters, she didn't see a trapdoor open in front of her. Its mouth was open, waiting for its unsuspecting prey. As her feet hit empty space, Lestrade reacted in a calm and rational way. She screamed as she pitched forward and fell through the darkness.
She hit the floor very hard. Rubbing the parts that ached from the fall, Lestrade found herself staring into a pair of violet eyes. They looked very familiar. She closed her eyes and tried to clear her head. When she reopened her eyes, she looked around and nearly jumped in surprise. She was surrounded by several reflections of herself.
A room of mirrors, Lestrade thought, panicked. As she moved around she found a hallway still filled with mirrors. A maze, it was a maze of mirrors. She pulled out the ioniser out of instinct. Suddenly she remembered the years of training. Her fear was gone. She needed to get out and back with Holmes.
She moved with caution. Lestrade refused to give into the gnawing little voice in her head that warned her that her gun was useless. If she was going to go down, it would be swinging.
------------------
Holmes froze as he heard Lestrade's scream rip through the silent Opera House. He stopped what he was doing and ran through the dark towards her voice. She was fine, he told himself. She was just spooked by a rat. He slowed down when he didn't see her lumie. Panic coursed through his veins.
"Lestrade!" Holmes shouted into the dark as he hurried along, "Lestrade, answer me!"
Silence greeted him in return. Holmes continued to shout as he walked along quickly. This was slowly turning into one of Deidre's treasured horror movies. If they made it out, he made a mental note to tell Deidre about this night.
Suddenly the floor was gone from under him. Holmes fell through the dark and landed on him back. Gradually he sat up and looked up. He was in a hall of mirrors. Sighing, he stood up and began to search of a way out and back to Lestrade.
As his hands touched the smooth glass, he worried if she was all right. Hopefully, she hadn't pulled out her ioniser and started blasting. She could hurt herself. Soon he discovered the entrance to another mirror hallway. Smirking, he walked down it. It was an interesting puzzle he found himself in.
--------------
Lestrade continued through the maze. Soon she started despairing whether she would ever get out. Keeping her ioniser ready, she quickly made her way through the maze of mirrors. Lestrade stopped a few times to try and keep herself from panicking. When one panicked, they make mistakes.
A husky voice called out to her, "Who are you?"
Lestrade turned around quickly. Her ioniser remained steady even though her heart was going a mile a minute. Her violet eyes widened at the sight in the mirror. It was impossible, what she saw.
Standing in the mirror wasn't her reflection but the reflection of someone else. A pair of sharp blue eyes pierced into Lestrade with annoyance. Her curly brown hair cascaded down her back. She was dressed in a white gentlemen's shirt and black pants. A simple gold chain and ring hung around her slender, pale neck. The woman stood with the grace of a queen. Lestrade recognized her immediately from the photo.
Lestrade walked up with the ioniser still leveled at Erika. A smirk graced her lips as she watched Lestrade's antics. Lestrade's fingers touched the glass. That was impossible. Lestrade was so sure she was in the hallway with her.
"I'll repeat myself, chère. Who the hell are you?" Erika asked again.
"Inspector Lestrade of New Scotland Yard, Miss Noir." Lestrade replied, "You are under arrest."
"A bit out of your jurisdiction, aren't you, Inspector? Why are you here?"
"I'm here to solve the murder of Raoul de Chagny, in which you are a prime suspect. Now just come along peacefully."
"No."
"Excuse me, I wasn't asking. You are not running away like you did when your father died."
Those blue eyes flashed dangerously, "You know nothing about that. You are playing with fire. You actually assume Erika Noir still exists."
Lestrade smirked, "Aren't you standing there arguing with me?"
"Maybe. After all, I could have died and you are talking to a ghost."
"I don't believe in ghosts. Now step out of that mirror or I'll shoot."
"And then you'll shoot yourself."
Lestrade growled at the smile on Erika's face, "You are a coward, a scared little girl who couldn't handle her father's death."
"You don't know anything about that, as blind as you are to the Count. Tell me, Inspector, do you consider yourself a smart woman?"
"Yes."
"Then why do you believe his lies? Does he tell you that you are beautiful, exquisite, a rare find, a goddess that he can worship? Does he tell you things that no one has ever said to you before? Do you feel loved, treasured, when he tells you things?"
Lestrade tried to block out Erika's sneering face, a face that had seen a darker side to the man who was currently trying to woo her. Lestrade couldn't let her emotions override her judgment. But didn't she already do that when she decided that Erika was the prime suspect?
"That has nothing to do with this!" Lestrade shouted at the specter in the mirror. "Absolutely nothing."
"He has, hasn't he? Honeyed words to lure you to his bed. He hasn't changed. He made promises and destroyed each one, destroyed me with each one."
Lestrade steeled her resolve. "So you are a jilted lover. Get over it. He has moved on."
"Has he? Are you jealous of me? That I screwed him first or that he screwed me? Is that why you condemn me?"
"Not at all."
"Then why?" Erika shouted. "You don't know what that bastard took from me and you condemn me. It's all my fault, isn't it? Why, Inspector! Why are you condemning me?"
Lestrade lowered the ioniser at the sight of tears in the woman's eyes. She repeated the question over and over again. Lestrade didn't have the answer. She just judged as the Count judged, even though she knew what he was accused of. Here was the result of the crime -- this woman who was still dealing with the loss. Lestrade could see it in her eyes. Erika was still feeling it in her soul. And Lestrade still condemned her, still blamed her.
Suddenly Erika was gone and Lestrade stared at her own reflection. But she didn't see it. Erika was still there, waiting for an answer. Slowly, Lestrade sank to the ground. How could she answer? She had broken the first rule she made for herself: never judge another until you know them. A tear coursed down her cheek as she felt her own betrayal.
"I'm sorry. I don't know," Lestrade confessed to the empty room.
-------------------
Holmes quickly walked through the maze. He started to get antsy. He wasn't sure how long he was down there but he was worried for Lestrade. He just remembered her fear of dark basements. How stupid was he for suggesting that they split up?
As he moved quicker, his thoughts stayed on Lestrade. He kept forgetting about that fear. She was so brave otherwise. She stood her ground in any situation, no matter the danger. Even when they were undercover and she threw him for a loop during the interview with therapist, she didn't flinch as he yelled at her for it. If she was hurt in any way he was going….
Holmes stopped mid-thought at the sight of the young lady in front of him. She stared at him with innocent blue eyes that were tinged with sadness. Holmes recognized her from her picture, except that she hadn't aged six years. They stared at each other in silence. Holmes wondered if he was seeing her ghost or a mirage.
"Who are you?" she called out. "You don't belong here."
"I'm Sherlock Holmes, Miss Noir." Holmes bowed, eliciting a giggle from the young lady. "I'm looking for you and your friend the Phantom."
"I'm sorry, but he isn't here right now," she smiled softly. "He was injured during an encounter with the Count."
"I see. Maybe you can come out and we can talk."
"Aren't we talking now?"
"Yes, we are, but I would like to talk to your face rather than a mirror."
"I can't, sir."
"Why not?"
"If he knows I'm here, he'll kill me," Erika confessed softly. "I must die in order to find peace."
"The Count is after you, isn't he? He wants to finish what he started?"
"I can't say. It would put more people in danger."
"Erika, I want you to trust me."
"I can't, M'sieur Holmes. You work for him." Erika turned away. "You need to go."
"Why?"
"Because the Inspector needs you. Beware the Count. His mask is a good one."
Suddenly Erika was gone. Holmes stared at his reflection. She was scared still. No matter what, it boiled down to the Count and what he knew. He walked towards the mirror and gently touched the glass. Somewhere in here was a scared young lady. He would make sure the Count never found her.
The mirror suddenly slid to the side, revealing Lestrade sitting on the ground, crying. Holmes forgot Erika as he rushed forward to comfort his partner. He watched as a clear passage to the stairs leading out was revealed.
"I failed, Holmes. I judged her too soon," Lestrade confessed to him.
"I think we learned much about ourselves," Holmes nodded as he helped her up. "Now we need to get out of here."
----------------
Moriarty silently walked around the stage. He heard Holmes calling Lestrade's name and then he suddenly stopped. It was starting to spook him. He looked around for any sign of life. Soon he focused on any sound at all.
That was when he heard it -- the swishing of a cape. He turned quickly, drawing his ioniser as he went, only to face the tip of a sword. His gray eyes travel up to the blade that gleamed in the light cast by a single candle. The figure was dressed in an old-fashioned black suit. Moriarty looked at the face that was covered by a stark white mask. A pair of bright blue eyes stared at him. A black hat concealed the Phantom's hair from his view.
"Hello, Professor," a tenor voice greeted him.
"M'sieur Phantom," Moriarty growled as he remembered all that the Phantom held from him.
"Such a tone in my own house. You better watch it," the Phantom remarked calmly.
"I came to make you a deal. Join me."
"Or what?"
"Or be destroyed."
"Intriguing. I hold a sword to your throat and you make the threats. You are either really brave or really stupid."
"I prefer cunning. Your decision?"
"Is this another way of getting Erika, Professor?" The Phantom smirked at Moriarty's surprised look. "I do my homework."
"I see. Your decision, please."
"No. I refuse." The Phantom pulled the sword away. "And I suggest you put that ioniser away. Erika will be displeased if I have to hurt you."
Moriarty growled, "I will win her from you. I have a score to settle with her."
"Several, from what I heard. But she will never leave me. Our lives are tied too closely together."
"I will break that tie."
"You do and she will die."
"How did you get her bound so tightly?" Moriarty shouted. He didn't care who heard him. He wanted this man to tell him how he controlled Erika.
The Phantom merely smiled as he stepped away. The light was the only source on the stage. They stared at each other in the candlelight. Then Moriarty heard Holmes and Lestrade's voices. The Phantom did too, because in the next instant the candle was out. Moriarty lunged for the Phantom and barely missed him as he climbed up the rope. Moriarty grabbed the rope and followed.
He climbed for an eternity, thankful for the darkness. Then to his left he heard the Phantom land on the metal catwalk. Moriarty swung over and landed gently. Ahead he heard the Phantom run away.
Moriarty growled as he ran after him. He was going to get answers and he was going to get them tonight. Soon he watched as the Phantom disappeared onto the roof. Moriarty sprinted and slammed against the door, forcing it to swing open. The Phantom flew with the force of the hit and slid across the roof.
Moriarty smiled as he shut the rooftop door. He had him cornered. The Phantom slowly sat up and winced as he grabbed his arm. Good, Moriarty thought, make this pleasurable for me. The Phantom staggered to his feet and turned to face Moriarty. There was a small trace of fear in his eyes, but it was gone in an instant. Moriarty grabbed the Phantom's bad arm and twisted.
"Let see who is behind this mask, shall we?" Moriarty mused as he reached for the mask.
As he pulled it off, he dropped it in surprise. Staring up at him with her lips parted in pain was Erika. Moriarty quickly let go of her. She smiled coyly at him. Erika rubbed her arm and her whole stance changed from very straightforward to a casually sexy one. Moriarty could easily see her figure through the men's clothes. He nearly groaned as he noticed her black bra begin to show through the white shirt, indicating she'd put it on very quickly.
"Disappointed, Professor?" Erika laughed. "I hope not."
"You are the Phantom?" Moriarty asked, unsure of the truth.
"Nope, just filling in tonight," Erika shrugged as she walked towards him, "I do that every so often."
Moriarty leveled a hard look at her. "I don't believe you."
Erika grinned as she ran a hand along his jaw. "I don't care. I stopped caring a very long time ago."
Moriarty wasn't sure how to respond when his body was starting to rebel again. He gripped her waist, intent on pushing her away. Yet somehow she got closer to him. Moriarty felt his vision begin to fog as her lips began to caress his neck. He needed to hold onto his control.
Erika smiled against his neck. Good, he was now at her mercy. She liked catching him off guard. Someday he'd be immune and learn how to get her back but Erika was going to enjoy this right now. Experimentally she gently licked his neck as she rubbed against him. Moriarty grabbed her chin and yanked her up so they were gazing into each other's eyes.
"You are teasing me," he stated tightly, "Don't tempt me. I'm not a gentleman."
Erika shot back as a challenge, "And I'm not a lady."
Moriarty pulled her forward, intent on kissing her. He watched as her eyes became slits in anticipation of the kiss. He wasn't sure how he did it but he shoved her away. The shock on Erika's face pleased him greatly. Wanting to savor it, he turned and strode towards the door. When he reached it, he turned and looked at her.
She stood in the night. Moonlight washed over her, making her look like the ghost she'd played when they first met. Her hair danced on the wind and she watched him leave. Confusion clouded her bright eyes. Moriarty thought it was odd that she just stared at him rather then try to seduce him back to her.
"When I bed you, it will be more private!" Moriarty shouted.
Erika grinned in a very easy way. "You mean, when I bed you, Professor."
Moriarty grinned. "Your Phantom will be gone first. That I will promise you, and you will be mine."
"We'll see, Professor," Erika called as he left, "We shall see."
---------------
Deep underneath the Opera House, The Phantom poured itself a glass of wine. So close, yet so far away. They all were. The detectives were getting closer to finding Erika Noir while Moriarty nearly had the Phantom unmasked. He still held a few doubts. The Phantom saw that when he left. Right now each one was regrouping, trying to sort their feelings.
Sipping the wine, the Phantom relaxed in its chair as it looked over all the information that Nadir brought. Again, it had to do its homework. It was only a matter of time until the de Chagny received what the detectives knew and he made his move. The Phantom wanted to be prepared for anything.
As it flipped through the file, it noticed a picture of the Professor. Lifting it up to examine it, the Phantom reflected that he didn't take a good picture. He looked ugly in the picture, almost old. Yet he wasn't that in life. Far from it, actually; it was easy to see that he was still in his prime when you met him in person. His arrogance alone when he laid down a challenge was a definite indication. The Professor greatly intrigued him.
Yes, the Phantom thought as he looked at each player's picture, the game was definitely getting interesting. Each player would need a tail, especially the Inspector. If the Phantom was right, the Count would try to conquer the beautiful Inspector, and soon. The Phantom wasn't about to let that happen.